The President Show Brings You the Donald Trump Impression You Didn’t Know You Needed

What if Donald Trump, when he wasn't busy scooping buckets of water out of his fast-sinking lifeboat of a presidency, were also a talk show host? That's the conceit of The President Show, that debuted last night, and by all accounts, is better than we could have expected.

The President Show might offer the best one yet, but do we really need more?

By

Joshua Rivera

Look, we've said it already: the world certainly doesn't need more Donald Trump impressions. Still, host Anthony Atamanuik has long been credited with the best, most pointed, angriest one, and that's what sets both the impression and the show apart from, let's say, some of the more high-profile versions of the performance. The danger of a regular comedic Trump impression is in the "normalization" of the lecherous, vindictive commander-in-chief. Atamanuik sidesteps this by playing Trump bigger than even the man himself behaves publicly; he's rude, infantile, borderline evil. He's not the sterile, bumbling, reluctant president that exists in our fantasies; he's sentient, and he's mean-spirited. At the close of the show he lays it on thick: "I have the power to destroy any country in the world," he brags, "but I promise to start with America First." The crowd cheers.

There are moments of purely good comedy in the show, too: A field segment in which "Trump" takes to the streets of New York (after discovering Melania has changed the locks on his Trump Tower apartment) and becomes joyously overwhelmed by the sight of a truck. Peter Grosz, executive producer and underutilized Veep alum plays a good Mike Pence as the show's traditional "sidekick."

"It's great to be here," he says at the top of the show.

“No it’s not. I’m a pig. You hate this,” Trump replies.

It's these moments of Atamanuik essentially breaking character that actually enhance the show, and the impression. These self-aware moments of Trump's personality and his damage are biting, and anyone with a familiarity of Atamanuik's penchant for thoughtful, long, savage speeches will recognize these moments. In an interview with GQ.com's own Keith Olbermann, a softball question about how much Olbermann misses sports reporting transforms into a terrifying thought experiment as it goes on. Atamanuik follows up with, "But isn't that the danger? That we turn politics into a sport? That we call it 'horse-race politics' and the problem is that we no longer have discourse about social policy or how to elevate ourselves as a society? With no great goal, but instead keep points on policy that won't actually affect the common person?"

It's in this moment The President Show becomes not just another experiment in pissing off Trump (though it will most certainly do that), but also, hopefully, gives the people who will actually watch and enjoy this thing something to think about.

Make no mistake: This is an uneven show, and The President Show has the unenviable twin tasks of finding its feet and finding a way not to burn us out on yet another Trump impression, as good as this one may be. Still, it's a better start than expected. Atamanuik at the helm and a murderer's row of writing talent make this one to watch, just, maybe not every week.

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